by Kay Hooper
“She knew you had a mistress?”
Kane’s sharp question drew Cochrane’s gaze, and his reply was just as intense. “She knew I was … involved outside my marriage. She also knew that my wife would never consent to a divorce—and would make my life a living hell if she found out about the other woman. To say nothing of what would happen to me politically.”
The bell rang again, and Faith looked around. What on earth was that?
“Was it a secret you were willing to kill to keep?” Kane demanded harshly.
“I am not a killer.”
“I’m sure you told yourself that. But you had so much to lose, didn’t you? And there really wasn’t another way out for you, was there?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“No? Then tell us how it was.”
Faith heard Kane’s accusations and Cochrane’s quiet denials, but she had also heard that bell again. She shifted on the couch, to get a better angle to see more of the room, and as her hand rested over the edges of two cushions she felt something.
It was caught between the cushions, out of sight, but her fingers found it and pulled it out. A tiny silver bell.
Faith stared at it, holding it in such a way that if the men looked at her they would think she was intently studying her fingernails. A tiny silver bell. A tiny silver charm she suddenly remembered having seen before.
Did you know about this, Dinah? Or am I the one who knew somehow?
The dead didn’t answer, so Faith said to the living, “What did Dinah want of you, Mr. Cochrane?”
He turned his head quickly to look at her, seeming relieved to face her rather than Kane. “She said she was working on a story, that she suspected other prominent men in Atlanta were being blackmailed. She wanted to know if I’d be willing to come forward when the story broke, to go to the police.”
“You told her no.”
“I told her I handled my own problems.”
“And did you? Handle it?”
“I thought I had.”
Faith didn’t have to listen to the voice in her head now. “You refused to pay, didn’t you? Refused to pay them and told them to go to hell. You were the first not to give in to them. To be willing to see your secret exposed rather than pay hush money.”
“The … lady involved found out about the threats and agreed I couldn’t bow to blackmail. We both knew it would never end, that I’d be bled until I stood up to them. So, yes, I refused to pay. And they backed down. Or so I thought. There were no more demands for money, and my wife never received that envelope of incriminating photographs they’d promised.”
“But?” Faith watched him steadily.
“But … we began having problems out at the new plant. Mechanical breakdowns, tardy deliveries, mistakes in orders. It looked like sabotage, but there was never enough evidence to point to a culprit. And then problems began cropping up in our other divisions, the same sort of delaying, destructive tactics.”
“You were being punished.”
“So it seemed. I realized these faceless enemies were out to destroy me, and that I was helpless to stop them.”
“You could have paid,” Faith noted.
“No,” Cochrane said. “I couldn’t have done that.”
“You could have gone public about the affair, taken that weapon out of their hands and taken your chances politically. Extramarital affairs aren’t the political death knell they once were.”
“True enough. I could have. The lady was willing, and I was ready to accept the consequences. But they had shown their hand. They meant to destroy me, piece by piece. If I took one weapon out of their hands, they would have found others. Another secret, some stupid mistake I’d made somewhere along the way.” Cochrane smiled wryly. “I haven’t led a particularly blameless life, Miss Parker. And I have no desire to watch all my mistakes exposed one by one.”
“Then what can you do?”
“I’ll fight them. Fight their tactics, hold my own until I discover who they are. I may lose. But I won’t go down without a fight.”
“I see.”
Cochrane looked at Kane. “By the time I realized the scope of my problem, Miss Leighton had been missing for several weeks. I hope you believe me when I say that if I’d thought I could help the police find her, I would have come forward.”
Before Kane could respond, the sliding doors of the connecting study opened, and a new voice spoke quietly.
“And so would I.”
Kane was stunned, and Faith looked at him with sympathy, then stretched out her open hand, the charm lying on the palm.
“I think this came off your bracelet, Sydney.”
• • •
Kane’s discomfort was obvious, and even though neither Cochrane nor Sydney seemed to bear him any malice, the next few minutes were very strained. It was left to Faith to keep the discussion going.
“You’re absolutely sure you have no clue as to who is trying to ruin you?” she said to Cochrane.
“I’ve racked my brains.” He sat beside Sydney at the other end of the long couch. “The problem is, I have plenty of enemies. I just can’t settle on anyone with a grudge big enough to drive them to blackmail and sabotage. Unless it’s purely money, of course, and I was chosen because I had a point of vulnerability and the means to make blackmail worth the risk.”
“You’ve got bigger problems than that,” she told him after a glance at Kane. “Do you know a man named Jed Norris?”
“No, I don’t think so. Why?”
Kane asked, “Do you own a handgun, a .45 automatic?”
“I own several, including two .45s. Why?”
“Because,” Faith said, “the body of a man identified as Jed Norris was found this morning. Murdered, execution-style, shot in the head. A gun registered to you was found nearby. And it is the murder weapon.”
“Oh, my God,” Sydney murmured.
Cochrane reached for her hand and held it. He was a little pale, but composed. “Setting aside that I would hardly be stupid enough to use a gun registered to me in a crime and then leave it at the scene, the last time I can swear all my guns were in the case was months ago. Someone must have stolen one of them.”
“The case isn’t locked?” Kane asked.
“Of course, but it’s hardly more than a childproof lock, a simple precaution. There is a security system, but it’s active only at night.”
“Who has access during the day?”
“To the room? Quite a few people. The housekeeping staff. My wife’s secretary, my own assistant. And my wife has held two charity functions in the house or on the grounds in the last three months. The place has been crawling with people at various times.” He paused. “Who was this man apparently killed with my gun?”
Sydney said almost inaudibly, “He was off somewhere, Max said, just AWOL because they weren’t working.…”
Kane looked at Cochrane. “Norris was the construction foreman on the Ludlow project. The crew wasn’t working this week because there was a problem. Today, I discovered the site has been sabotaged.”
“How badly?”
“It’s bad enough. Somebody who knew how to do it undermined the foundation. The inspector says it can’t be patched. Which means we pull it down and start all over—or cancel the project.”
“That,” Cochrane said without emotion, “would be the final nail in my financial coffin.”
“Maybe that’s the idea,” Kane said. “Put your back against the wall financially so that taking any action other than paying them would mean total ruin.”
“If so,” Cochrane said, “it’s a smart plan. Too many of my business interests are largely dependent on my wife’s money, and she wouldn’t hesitate to sell out her interests to get back at me—no matter how many people were put out of work because of it.”
“In the meantime,” Faith said, “the police are probably trying to find a motive for you to have killed Norris. They’ll want to know where you’ve been. People at your office and h
ome—”
“Said I was out of town. Yes, it’s what I told them to say.” Cochrane looked at Sydney. “We hadn’t had much time together these last weeks, so I invented a business trip. I’ve been here at the condo since Sunday night.”
“So have I,” Sydney said instantly.
“Not all the time,” he said, his voice astonishingly gentle and his smile too tender for onlookers. “You’ve been at the office during the day, Syd.”
Her mouth firmed stubbornly. “I slipped out a lot and came here to be with you. Got in late at the office, took long lunches, and left early every day. You know I did.”
Cochrane smiled at her again, then said to Kane, “When was this man killed? Do they know?”
“The police say the body’s been … exposed to the elements … for at least a couple of days. My guess is that they won’t be able to pinpoint the exact time of death.”
“Then I have no verifiable alibi,” Cochrane said calmly.
“Jordan—”
“No one was witness to my movements all the time, Syd. It won’t help me for you to say you were with me some of the time, and it could only hurt you for no good reason. Don’t worry. I had no reason to kill this man.”
Faith said, “Somebody’s already suggested Norris was hired to sabotage the building, then killed to cover it up. I don’t see how you could benefit if the construction is stopped.”
“I couldn’t. I have a lot of personal money tied up in that project, and the investment only pays off once it’s completed and generating income.” Cochrane frowned suddenly and looked at Kane. “Why did you ask about the warehouse? What has that to do with any of this?”
Kane’s gaze dropped to his clasped hands. “We have … reason to believe that warehouse is where Dinah was held at least part of the time she was missing.”
“Kane, no.” Sydney was staring at him. “Jordan had nothing to do with that. Not Dinah’s disappearance or—or her murder.”
Faith said, “My guess is that it was yet another way his enemies thought they could chip away at what mattered in his life. Mr. Cochrane, you said the blackmailers threatened to send photographs to your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Then they knew it was Sydney you were involved with.”
“Yes.”
“What better way to drive a stake into the heart of that relationship than to have you suspected of having tortured and murdered her brother’s fiancée?”
“I would never have believed that,” Sydney said fiercely.
Faith wasn’t surprised by the loyalty, having watched them together. But she said, “It wouldn’t have been pleasant, though. And for all we know, the real killers might have evidence they mean to plant against him. At the very least, by holding Dinah in the Cochrane warehouse, they’ve managed to involve him.”
“Assuming the police discover that,” Kane reminded her.
“Oh, I imagine they’ll be led to discover it. Unless we can figure out the truth before then.” Faith spoke absently, her mind fully occupied in trying to do just that. She reached into the pocket of her jacket and brought out a copy of the list they had found. “Take a look at these names, Mr. Cochrane. They’re the men Dinah suspected were being blackmailed. Do any of the other names mean anything to you?”
He stared down at the list. “Mason is dead, suicide. Carson … Hayes … Swain … Gordon …”
“We know they’re all involved in construction in some form,” Kane said. “Is there anything else you know of that these five men have—or had—in common with you?”
Cochrane looked up, a sudden realization on his grim face. “Just one thing. I wouldn’t know in the ordinary way because he’s so damned discreet, but I accidentally saw some files in his office one day. Conrad Masterson. We all use him to manage our personal money.”
In the darkness of the sedan’s backseat, Faith said, “If Dinah had shown the list to Cochrane … she might not be dead. She would have known to be wary of Masterson.”
“Conrad. Jesus.” Kane was still coping with the shock.
“Only someone who thoroughly understood Jordan Cochrane’s financial situation could know where and how to strike at him. That makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, but—” With barely suppressed anger, Kane said, “I can’t believe Conrad would have hurt Dinah. I always thought he was the least violent man I’d ever met in my life.”
“Maybe he didn’t. We’ve always known there was more than one person involved in this. Maybe Conrad works for or with whoever killed Dinah. Or maybe it’s just a huge coincidence.” She watched his profile, visible only now and again in the streetlights they passed. “Look, we’ve done all we can tonight. Richardson was right—we have to let him talk to the other men and find out if they can point to Conrad.”
She forced a note of humor into her voice. “In fact, we’re lucky he didn’t throw us both in jail after we told him about finding Cochrane—and all the other bits and pieces we’d kept to ourselves.”
The hour or so in Richardson’s office had not been easy, but Faith was still glad she had been able to persuade Kane to go that route rather than follow his first instinct—to find Conrad Masterson. Of course, it had helped her cause when a couple of phone calls had found Masterson neither at his home nor his office, and so temporarily out of Kane’s reach.
“He’ll get over it,” Kane said, referring to Richardson. “And sooner rather than later if the information we gave him helps him solve a few crimes.”
From the front seat, the bodyguard said, “You folks still want to go by your office, Mr. MacGregor?”
“I know it’s getting late, Sam, but—”
“Don’t mind me or Steve here,” the bodyguard said with a faint gesture toward the driver. “We get time and a half.”
“The office it is, then.” Kane lowered his voice and said to Faith, “Are you sure you don’t mind? I want to pick up the master blueprints for the Ludlow building and see if I can figure out a way to salvage that situation.”
“No problem.” She knew very well that he’d go crazy unless he had something to fix his mind on while the police plodded along trying to gather evidence. “Cochrane will certainly thank you if you can—if the police don’t arrest him for Norris’s murder.”
“Guy didn’t seem too keen to do that just yet,” Kane reminded her. “Aside from having no believable motive, he agreed Cochrane would be too smart to use his own gun and drop it at the scene after wiping all the prints off.”
“I wish they’d get that report on Norris’s fingerprints,” Faith said restlessly. “It’s important, Kane, I know it is.”
“Probably tomorrow, Guy said. He’s checking the system for a match and sent them up to Noah for good measure. Assuming Noah’s at Quantico. One of them will call us as soon as anything turns up.”
Faith nodded, but she still felt uneasy. If Norris had been involved, why was he dead now? Had Conrad Masterson killed him? Was Masterson even guilty of anything? And what was the thing Dinah was tortured for? Dammit, they still didn’t know!
The storm had passed hours ago, but it was still a cold and wet and miserable night to be out. Even so, the driver circled the offices of MacGregor and Payne out of caution, and both he and Sam were alert as the car pulled into the underground garage.
It was mostly empty, and as safe as electronic security and surveillance cameras could make it, so Faith wasn’t worried as she, Kane, and Sam rode up in the elevator to the fifth floor, where Kane’s office was located.
There was a security guard stationed in the reception area, as there was on every floor, and he reported to Kane that everybody had logged out and all was secure.
“I’ll be right back,” Kane said, digging for his keys as he headed for his office.
“I’ll be here,” Faith said. She began wandering along the hallway looking at photographs and paintings of past MacGregor and Payne projects.
Sam leaned against the desk to chat with the guard, one security
person to another. “Nice setup,” he noted.
“Yeah, cost a fortune. This place is about as secure as technology can make it.” Nodding toward Faith as she strolled away, the guard indicated a bank of monitors that showed views of several hallways. “I can track anybody all through the building. Beats me why they’re so hot to protect a bunch of offices, but I get paid to watch, not wonder.”
“I hear that.” Sam looked down the corridor to find Faith as she neared another hallway, then looked at the monitors. “Which one’s she headed for?”
The guard pointed to a screen. “There. Don’t worry. You can see everything’s fine.”
Kane was just turning to leave his office when his private line rang, and he answered it. “MacGregor.”
“Where the hell’s your cell phone?” Bishop demanded in lieu of a more polite greeting.
Surprised by the ferocity, Kane said, “In my pocket, but the battery’s probably dead. It’s been a long day. What’s up?”
“Where’s Faith?”
“With me. Noah, what is it?”
“Richardson said you were planning to stop by the office, so I took a chance. Those prints he sent up here?”
“Yeah?”
“Belonged to one Jedidiah Sanderson.”
“Then Faith was right. It wasn’t Jed Norris.”
“Let’s say rather that Jed Norris wasn’t who he appeared to be. Sanderson’s prints are on file because he had a record. A few arrests, mostly strong-arm stuff, and going back years. But not in Atlanta.”
Kane drew a breath. “Seattle.”
“Seattle.”
“Then he’s the connection we’ve been looking for?”
“Sanderson was Faith’s boss, Kane. He ran that construction company she worked at, took over when the younger brother who started it was supposedly killed in a fire. Didn’t do too well with it. He declared bankruptcy not long after Faith’s family was killed, and blew town before anybody could stop him.”
“And came to Atlanta. Okay, but I still don’t see—”
“When I dug into the fire that killed his younger brother, I found an arson investigator who was certain but couldn’t prove the fire had been started deliberately. The insurance money was paid, and it was a lot. But Sanderson never seemed to have any money afterward, just a company he couldn’t keep in the black. I started wondering where the money went. I found a photograph of the younger brother and sent it to Richardson. He recognized it right away. Kane—it’s Max Sanders.”
